


Twice

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post ep: Plus One, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13718016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: A sequel to Here's How it Really Happened and a post-ep for Plus One





	Twice

He’s only mildly discouraged by her dismissal of him because he has a strong suspicion that the door won’t stay closed all night.  He’ll give her credit, she tries to act like she doesn’t want him as much as he wants her, tries to be distant and professional, as though it’s twenty years ago and her reputation is still somehow on the line, but he knows better.  He supposes some things really never change, even if times are different.

 

He closes the door between them and turns on the TV, just to act like he’s not interested, like he can play hard to get if he has to.  Good thing he’s an eternal optimist.  Well, maybe not an optimist, but eternally hopeful where Scully is concerned.  He waits by the door and leans against the jamb; tells himself he’ll only wait a minute, maybe five, just to see if she’ll knock.  He counts the seconds, barely at thirty when he hears the knob turn and the door swings open.

 

He tries not to gaze at her, he really does, but it’s damn near impossible not to.  She didn’t even take thirty seconds to open the door and there she is, biting her lip like she’s got her hand caught in the cookie jar.  Their eyes lock and hold.  Neither of them make a move towards the other, but the magnetic pull is near impossible to fight.  He finally straightens and spreads an arm across the doorway, leaning in to her room just a little bit.

 

“So, I know you said it was just that once,” he says.  “But, that could mean a lot of things.  Once earlier.  Once per bed.  Once an hour.”

 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, reaching out and grasping the front of his unbuttoned shirt and pulling him across the threshold into her room.

 

He kicks the door shut behind him.  He’s still holding his jacket, which he tosses onto the floor as he moves forward, walking her backwards towards the bed.  She’s managed to undo two more of his buttons on the way there, all the while maintaining eye contact with him until the back of her knees hit the mattress.

 

She stops, but he steps up against her, swinging his arms low around her waist.  Her fingers dance over his bare chest where his shirt has come undone in little swirls, lazy S’s down from his throat to his solar plexus.  He should be twenty years beyond the point of excitement just from a simple touch or the act of undressing each other, but he still feels a flutter for her low in his gut at the slightest hint of what’s to come.

 

Her hands leave his chest and start to tug eagerly at his belt.  He grins at the top of her head as she drops her chin to see what she’s doing.  Her concentration at times like this is ridiculously precious to him.

 

“Did I ever tell you about my connecting door fantasy?” he asks.

 

“Which one?” she replies, unbuttoning the top of his jeans.  She peeks up at him with a twinkle in her eye and a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth.

 

“Good point.  Let’s call it number 874.”  

 

She stretches up on her toes to kiss him, holding herself up by taking fistfuls of his open shirt.  Her kisses are playful, little nips and pecks at his lips with the occasional nuzzle of her nose against his cheek.  He grunts slightly and bends his neck to make it easier for her.  His starched collar chafes the back of his neck from the way she pulls him down.  When he lifts his head away from her, she makes a noise of protest and her brows come together with disapproval.  Quickly, he turns her around so her back is to his chest and he lifts the shoulders up on her blazer to slide it down her arms.  It falls to the floor and he kicks it away.

 

“Remember that motel in Nevada?” he asks, molding himself against her back and pulling her shirt out from her waistband.

 

Her hands come back to rub the front of his thighs.  “Can you be more specific?”

 

“The one with the cartoon cacti painted on the door and the connecting rooms that opened into that weird vanity area in front of the bathrooms.”

 

“Vaguely familiar.”

 

He doesn’t take her shirt off, he just leaves it open like his is and he slides his hands across her stomach.  She clenches her muscles, but takes a deep breath and bumps her head back against his shoulder.

 

“Tell me,” she says on an exhale.  “Tell me what you wanted to happen.”

 

The tips of Mulder’s fingers dip down into her waistband to the knuckle.  He scratches the lace edge of her panties and pulls her into his hips.  He’s not quite hard, just getting there, but enough to matter.  As she so delicately pointed out last night, they’re not as young as they once were.  It hasn’t lessened his desire for her, just slowed it down a little.

 

“I imagined you bursting through that door just as I got out of the shower,” he says.  “Autopsy papers in hand, or case notes, whatever, it’s not importantly, only relevant because it brought you into the room.”

 

“I suppose I should be grateful I’m not just a pizza delivery girl in this fantasy.”

 

“Numbers 458 through 490.”

 

She chuckles and he smiles as he unbuttons her pants.  Her hands leave his thighs and smooth down his forearms to hold on to his wrists.  Her hips push back against his and she arches her back with a sigh when he slides his hand between her thighs.

 

“What did I do?” she breathes out, eyes closed, head tipped back against his chest.  “After bursting through the door?”

 

“Mm, for one thing you failed to notice I was dripping wet out of the shower and had just barely gotten a towel wrapped around my hips.”

 

“How do you know I didn’t notice?”

 

“You kept going on and on, ‘Mulder these results make your theory impossible,’ blah blah blah.  You know how you are.”  He gives her a gentle squeeze as he murmurs directly into her ear, making sure his lips graze the lobe every so often.

 

Scully shivers and her breath catches as she lifts her heels up from the floor like she’s trying to get closer to him or like she’s trying to get away.  Her nails bite into his wrists as he squeezes just a bit harder and traces his thumb down along the inside of her thigh.

 

“Keep going,” she says.

 

“With the story, or with this?”  He offers up another squeeze and makes sure his index finger slides under the edge of her panties and dips in to feel how slick and hot she is, giving her just enough to keep her frustrated.

 

“Yes,” she whimpers.  “Dammit, Mulder.”

 

“So, you’re droning on and on, but suddenly you realize, I’ve been half-naked the entire time.  You stop abruptly and you blush so hard I can feel the heat in your cheeks.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, I would never blush just at the sight of your naked chest.”

 

“Oh, I beg to differ, Scully.  You are quite the blusher.  You’re even blushing right now.”

 

“Am not.”

 

Mulder snorts.  It’s one of her first stages of arousal and she’s radiating with heat right now.  He wonders if she really has no idea or if she’s just playing demure.  It doesn’t matter.  He teases her with the flat of his hand and expertly drags the rough callus below his middle finger in slow circles in just the right spot to make her squirm.  One thing he loves about having been with her for so long, he knows her body as well as his own.  He knows where to touch and how.  He knows her sounds and her silences.  He knows her taste.  He knows her smell.  He knows everything.

 

“I ask you if you see anything you like,” he whispers, moving the hand across her waist up to palm her breast.  “You don’t answer.  I’m not quite sure you even heard me.  Your mouth is open, like the kind of half-open, bottom lip wet with the promise of chocolate cake type open.”

 

“God, you’re so…”

 

“Perverted?”

 

“Detailed.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Mulder takes a moment to lean his head over her shoulder and sweep his tongue inside her mouth.  She whimpers and pulls at the hair on his arms.  It hurts so good.  He pushes two fingers up into pure, wet heat.  Her mouth opens wider in a gasp and he lets his lips linger over hers, breathes into her mouth and takes her breath into his.

 

They’re both still for just a few moments.  He’s got her wrapped up in a tight embrace and she’s taut with anticipation.  He pulls back to nuzzle the side of her neck with the stubble on his cheek and she shivers as she turns her head with him.  He pinches at the fabric of her bra to find the hard bump of an erect nipple and squeezes until she groans.  He curls his fingers inside her and easily finds the sensitive, supple wall of flesh he’s looking for.  Her body practically goes limp in his arms.

 

“Without a word,” he says.  “You reach for the towel.”

 

“You’re still on that?” she pants, hips rolling with the gentle probing of his fingers.

 

“You know me, Scully, I always finish what I start.”

 

“Don’t stop.”

 

“All you have to do is tug very softly where the towel is tucked at my hips and it falls away.  You just stand there looking, staring really, trying to decide what you want to do and what you want done to you.”

 

“Oh my god, right there, right there...keep…”

 

“You lick your lips and I wonder if you’re about to drop to your knees in front of me, but that’s not what I want.”

 

“Since when do you...god...not want...ohhhh…”

 

“What I want is to be inside you.  So bad.  Bad enough that I’m probably rougher than I should be when I lift you up onto the vanity and hike your skirt up over your hips.”

 

“Sounds more like you.”

 

“Am I too rough?”

 

“No, but you think you are.”

 

“Hm.  And you’ve got these lacy little thigh highs on.”

 

“You know I don’t wear thigh highs.”

 

“Shut up, Scully.”  He moves his hand just a little faster, rubs a little harder.  She writhes against him and he slows because he isn’t done with her yet.

 

“Mulder,” she moans.

 

“The thong you’re wearing, it’s also lacy and looks delicate.  I slide it down your legs, very slowly, because it gives me an excuse to touch you.  You don’t want slow, though.  You’ve been thinking about this for as long as I have.”

 

“Yeah...yes...Mulder…”

 

“You reach for me and it’s so easy, Scully.  It’s so easy and perfect, the way we fit together.”

 

“Oh god, I…”

 

“Neither of us can last long.  There’s too much pent-up tension and it feels too good to stop or slow down.”

 

She’s so close.  Mulder can feel her throbbing around his hand, can feel her muscles pull and contract, pull and contract.  Her body vibrates with frenzied desperation.  He wants to give her the release she’s searching for, but he wants to hold out just a little longer.

 

“You will always be my fantasy,” he whispers in her ear.  “I don’t care if it’s twenty years ago, today, or thirty years from now, I will always want you and only you.”

 

Scully whimpers and cries out.  Her body twitches and jerks and he holds her tight against him, one hand molded to her breast, the other caught between the crushing press of her thighs.  He soothes her down from her high with kisses to her neck.

 

“I don’t know about you, Scully, but I think we’ve gotten better with age.”

 

She squeezes his arms and wiggles her hips to be let free.  He lets her go slowly, taking his time to loosen his hand on her breast and let his fingers slip free of her body.  She turns when his hold is relaxed and wraps her arms around his neck, presses her face to his throat.  He keeps his wet, sticky hand by his side and splays the other at her tailbone, under her blouse.

 

“How stable do you think that sink in the bathroom is?” she asks.

 

“Want to find out?”

 

She tips her head back and looks up at him with half-mast eyes.  “Let’s go see what we can do about number 874,” she says.

 

The End

  
  



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